


When You Said Your Last Goodbye

by tempered_rose



Series: Pausenclown [2]
Category: RPF - Fandom, Real Person Fiction, Sports RPF
Genre: Bittersweet, Borussia Dortmund, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, FIFA World Cup 2014, Friendship, German Football, German National Team, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Relationships, M/M, Sad, Sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-16
Updated: 2014-07-16
Packaged: 2018-02-09 02:52:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1966182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tempered_rose/pseuds/tempered_rose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This was written for a friend and a lovely anon who requested a follow-up. Since I love the angst and the painful endings, here we go. One day I maybe might write a third part. We'll see how it goes. It's a sequel to <b><a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/1936128">The Pausenclown's Boyfriend</a></b>.</p><p>Also, I fully recommend listening to <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cqJoVlnmdFQ">this song</a> while reading this fic, or beforehand. It goes really well.</p>
    </blockquote>





	When You Said Your Last Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for a friend and a lovely anon who requested a follow-up. Since I love the angst and the painful endings, here we go. One day I maybe might write a third part. We'll see how it goes. It's a sequel to **[The Pausenclown's Boyfriend](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1936128)**.
> 
> Also, I fully recommend listening to [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cqJoVlnmdFQ) while reading this fic, or beforehand. It goes really well.

_Miro hadn’t gone back to Italy yet._

That fact kept running through Thomas’ mind as he made his way across town. He hasn’t gone; he’s still here. Thomas cursed the traffic as he hoped he would be in time to change his mind. Cliches of romantic films aside, Thomas felt the anxiety choking off his oxygen supply.

This wasn’t like the films.

For a start, this was rush hour traffic in Munich and he was trying to get to a hotel downtown from his house outside in the country. It also seemed as if no one had decided to carpool that day. Traffic was a nightmare, people always wanted to cross the roads he was trying to turn onto, and Thomas swore under his breath every time he was cut off, cursing women to bad hair days and men to have ruined coffee orders.

He needed to get to Miroslav.

_Now._

— Yesterday —

“I can tell it’s something,” Thomas said, laying on his stomach on the bed, watching Miro look out at the city of Munich. Thomas was also enjoying the view: Miro shirtless in his pajama pants while holding a cup of tea. If Thomas thought about it, Miro holding a cup of tea was a fact that was bothering him. Miro rarely drank tea, rarer still if he was drinking it and he was _not_ upset about something.

“So what is it?” He asked and heard Miro sigh.

“It isn’t fair to you.” Miro echoed the words he had said weeks ago in Brazil. He was still looking out the window.

Thomas felt the disappointment settle in his stomach. He was smart enough to catch his knee jerk ‘I thought it was something serious’ reactive comment before it could come out. Letting Miro think that his fears and worries were insignificant, even if they were, wasn’t going to be the way to have this conversation start. Luckily. Miro didn’t look over to see Thomas’ face; maybe he should have done to see the look of disappointed endearment, a look that spoke volumes. Miro should have glanced over.

But he didn’t.

Thomas shook his head, rolling over onto his back but still watching Miroslav. “Are you happy with me?” He asked, voice light as he saw Miro look over with an incredulously intense expression on his face.

“More so than with anyone else.”

Thomas nodded, rolling again, only this time he sat up and crossed his legs, resting his hands on his knees. Seriously, he asked, “then why do you keep trying to find a reason to get out of this? To end it? Why do you want to break up with me?”

The words hung like delicate crystals of ice in the air. Miro and Thomas watched one another from their respective places in the room. Miro seemed to be holding his breath, eyes intently staring at Thomas. Thomas waited for him to speak so that he could acknowledge his fears and then tell him that he would always love him, come Hell or high water. Thomas watched him patiently and waited for him to continue the conversation.

After a few minutes more, Miro put the tea cup down on the table. He walked over towards the bed with a guarded expression that Thomas knew well. He was trying to reign in his feelings, trying and perhaps succeeding? Thomas hoped not. Miro reached out his hand, fingers lingered lightly on Thomas’ cheek, moving slowly down to rest his entire hand on Thomas’ shoulder. Thomas smiled slightly at Miroslav, hoping it was a reassuring look. He leaned into the touch as best he could.

Miro seemed to win whatever internal battle that he had going on in his head. He nodded to himself before pulling his hand back and folding both of them together behind his back.

“You’re right,” he said at last.

Thomas smiled brighter and went to reach for him, but Miroslav took a step back and shook his head. Regret was already beginning to show on his face. Thomas’ stomach dropped to the floor and Miro swallowed.

“Why do I keep looking for a reason to end it? Because I know you deserve more than I can give you. I love you, I always will, but you aren’t meant to be mine to have.” Miroslav paused and swallowed again, this time clearly harder. “You should go Thomas. Go and don’t come back to me.” 

Thomas stared at him, shaking his head. “You’re wrong! Can’t you see that?” Thomas asked, emotions running high. “How can you think you aren’t good enough for me?”

Miro shook his head, purposefully staying out of Thomas’ reach. He bent to get his shirt and began to redress, still silent to Thomas’ accusation.

“Miroslav, I love you and you love me. What else matters?” He thought he saw a look of anger flash across Miro’s face, but he wasn’t sure. Such a rarity that an emotion would cross Miro’s face.

“What else matters? Our families for a start. Then our careers, our reputations.”

Thomas skipped the first and went to the second on the Miro’s list. He didn’t have an immediate solution or answer to the first one.

“The world is more open-minded now. They would understand. Who cares what they think anyway?” Thomas stood up and faced a now redressed Miro.

“Love isn’t always enough, Thomas. No matter how much one wishes it could be.” Miro replied patiently. “The love I have for my family, my boys, will _always_ be more than I love you. I’m sorry, but I can’t, I won’t, risk them. Not for you, nor anyone else.”

Thomas shook his head. “I’m not asking you to. I’m asking why do you keep trying to cheapen what we have by telling me you aren’t good enough for me?” Thomas looked at Miro as a heavy weight began to settle in his chest; the weight felt very much like dread.

What if Miro was serious? What if this was the end of their relationship and not something that they could talk about and work out?

The longer Miro stood in silence, holding a silent war with himself, the longer Thomas felt his apprehension grow. He didn’t want to lose Miro. He didn’t want the years they had been together to be for nothing. He hadn’t expected forever; he had just wanted it to last that long, and longer.

Miro spoke so softly that Thomas didn’t hear him over the sound of his own thoughts.

“What? What did you say?”

Miro’s shoulders stayed visibly tense as he repeated himself, facing Thomas. “I think you should leave Thomas. Leave and go home.”

Thomas watched Miro and the dread he had been feeling started from his stomach, winding its way at lightning speed through his heart, up his spine, into his mind. He felt his mouth go dry and he watched Miro, shaking his head sadly. The light had gone from his eyes. He didn’t feel like he was going to ever smile again.

“Miro, please. _Please_ don’t do this to me, to us.” Thomas replied as a whisper. The curtain of reserved politeness was closing around Miro’s features and the wall was going up. Even if Thomas had dynamite, he would never have been able to penetrate it. “I’m sorry. I won’t bring it up again. We never have to talk about this again. Just please…I still need you.”

He wondered if Miro had heard anything he said, if he felt anything or if somehow he had managed to freeze the emotions the way he had managed to freeze his indifferent expression on his handsome features.

“Goodbye, Thomas. I look forward to seeing you the next time we have international duty. As friends.” He added at the last and Thomas felt the axe drop at last.

It was over then.

Thomas shook his head, slipped off Miro’s bed and began to redress as well. He wasn’t going to beg. He wasn’t going to cry either. He was a man, although he was hurting and quite badly at that. He stared into Miro’s eyes, sadness showing, as he got dressed. He didn’t hide his emotions the way Miro was. If the older man was going to break up with him, then he would rebel by showing the hurt and disappointment he felt. He wasn’t going to hide behind a mask of maturity and life experience.

“I wish you would change your mind. I love you.” Thomas felt his mouth stay dry and a lump in his throat choked the last three words he said.

“I won’t. You will thank me for this one day. I just want you happy.” Miro replied, a little less coldly than he had before. Thomas hoped he saw a look of regret cross the impassive mask. If he had, it was gone so fast he couldn’t tell.

“I won’t be happy, but thanks the same, I guess.” Thomas turned to leave the suite slowly. It was as if his legs hadn’t wanted to work at all. Nothing appeared to function quite correctly. Something was wrong, something was missing. Miro was missing.

 

Thomas wasn’t sure how he made it in one piece; he wasn’t really sure he had actually driven to Bastian’s house, but that’s where Bastian found him when he had gotten home with Sarah from going grocery shopping. She went into the house with things as Bastian had come over to knock on the glass of his window. Thomas had been staring at Bastian’s front door unseeingly for who knew how long.

“Mulli?” Bastian asked with concern when he noticed the completely absent aura around his friend. “What is it?”

Thomas didn’t speak at first. He simply climbed out of his car, scrambling for contact as he threw himself into Bastian’s arms and hugged him tightly. Instantly, he was surrounded by the warm, strong feel of his best friend’s arms around his body. Smelling like clean soap and laundry detergent, Bastian always smelled like comfort. And that’s what he needed right now.

“What happened?” Bastian asked after a few moments of holding him. He hadn’t ever seen Thomas this way before. He didn’t like it at all. Thomas shook his head and held tighter to Bastian.

Sarah saw them from the doorway as she finished getting the last bag in and she frowned. This wasn’t like Thomas at all. She finished putting everything away and then sent a text to the next two people that could help get through to Thomas if Bastian wasn’t getting any success, which it didn’t appear he was getting in at all. She stepped back and let Bastian in as he half carried, half walked Thomas inside the house.

She held up her phone so that Bastian could see and gave him a nod before she left quietly. Bastian shot her a grateful look as he sat Thomas down on the sofa and kept him close. He rubbed gentle circles on his back as the other man held tightly to him. He had given up asking what was wrong and just sat patiently, knowing that Thomas would talk to him when he was ready.

He wasn’t sure how long Sarah had been gone for before he heard his front door open again. He heard two pairs of footsteps coming down the hallway after the door had shut and he recognized their gate instantly. It only took a moment for Fips and Manu to get into his living room and they paused only for a moment when they saw how unlike himself Thomas was. Then they sat flanking Bastian and Thomas on the sofa, Fips on Bastian’s left, and Manuel on Thomas’ right.

Manuel had only been sitting for a few moments before Thomas shifted out of his hold with Bastian and leaned into the giant goalkeeper. Protective with anything else precious, Manu put his arm around Thomas and held him close. Fips looked at Bastian questioningly but the blond simply shrugged because he didn’t know how to answer. He didn’t know what was wrong, and was still trusting Thomas to talk eventually.

Finally, after nearly an hour with the three of them waiting patiently for him, Thomas finally came around enough to start mumbling aloud.

“Miro ended things.” He replied, a bitterness in his tone that shocked his friends more than his words. Thomas wasn’t bitter about things; that’s not who he was.

“Why?” Bastian asked gently.

Thomas shook his head. “That’s what I wanted to know. He wouldn’t tell me.”

Manuel raised his eyebrows, a gesture Thomas couldn’t see, but Philipp and Bastian could. They all three looked at one another and then back to Thomas, who was still tucked under Manuel’s arm. They waited a moment or two longer and Thomas spoke again.

“He said that he wasn’t good enough for me. He wouldn’t listen when I tried to tell him otherwise.” Thomas shifted under Manuel’s arm and looked at Bastian with a look that positively broke the older man’s heart. “Why wouldn’t he listen to me?”

Bastian shook his head and pulled Thomas back to him and held him close. Manuel released his hold as soon as Bastian took over and ran his hand over his face. Miro had a tendency to overthink and over rationalize things, he knew, but this was a bit far. Philipp was talking about just that, but the dry words weren’t exactly helping, Manuel thought.

“He said he wouldn’t risk his family. I wasn’t asking him to do that, either.” Thomas interrupted Philipp and Bastian glanced up at their captain with a slight shake of his head. Thomas continued to spill out the whole story, voice rising and falling with his words as the story came out in a heated rush of emotion.

Manuel and Bastian traded a knowing look as Philipp thought of something else to say. Finally, it was Bastian who managed to come up with a few words.

“You know how he is modest and conscious of everything he does. He overthinks things,” Bastian said kindly. “Maybe he has worried about how you fit into his life, how he needs you in it but feels a little guilty over having you there?” Bastian bit his lip, hoping he hadn’t been too blunt.

“I don’t want him to feel guilty.” Thomas mumbled.

“We know you don’t, he knows it too.” Manuel jumped in quickly, hand resting warmly on Thomas’ back.

Philipp nodded. “He’ll probably think about it again tonight and realize that he’s made a mistake. He has and he’ll realize it soon enough.”

Manuel nodded along with Fips.

“What if he doesn’t? I’m not asking him to chose his family over me. I’m not asking that we get married or go public. I just want him around. What if he doesn’t change his mind? What if he doesn’t want me around anymore?” Thomas asked, looking between all three of them.

It was a good question that none of them had an answer. The three older men silently prayed that Miroslav Klose would come around and realize what a foolish mistake he had made so that their friend would feel better. Resolved to help him through the night, the three of them settled in for a long night on Bastian’s sofa.

———

Four days after winning the world cup wasn’t the time to push it, and yet…

Thomas finally managed to get to the hotel after a text from Philipp earlier in the day confirmed that Miro was, in fact, still in town but making plans to leave on a flight out that night. He had just under three hours to convince Miroslav that this would work between them. He had to. He needed him.

He knocked quickly on the door once he had reached the fourth floor suite that Miro had been in. It took a moment but Miro answered the door, surprise showing on his face when he saw Thomas on the other side of the door. It was obvious that he hadn’t been expected at all.

Thomas made his way into the room before Miro could shut him out. He didn’t do like he wanted—pull Miro in for a giant large kiss and hope that would be enough to convince him—instead he slid his hands into his trouser pockets and looked at Miro. He looked probably a little helpless, though he was going for relaxed. He failed.

“I just want a few minutes of your time, before you leave.” Thomas said by way of explanation. Miro nodded slowly, but went over to the bed where he had an open suitcase. He was folding his shirts and packing them away.

“I wanted to let you know that it doesn’t matter if one of us is too good for the other. At least it didn’t, when we were still together.” Thomas didn’t like referring to their relationship in the past tense. He continued anyway. “I felt as if I could learn so much from you, not just as a footballer, but as a man. I loved you, I respected you. I cherished our time together. I always will.”

Miro continued to fold his shirts and didn’t look over.

“The only thing that disappointed me is that you wouldn’t trust me when I said you were good enough, that you were fair to me. I know you have a family, and I would never ask you to leave them or sacrifice their happiness for me. I would be upset with you if you _did_ do that. I wasn’t expecting all of your undivided attention, all of your affection. It would have been selfish for me and you know as well as I do that I couldn’t return all of my affection to you either. We both have families. It’s not an ideal situation on anyone’s part.”

Miro’s hands stilled on his shirts. He still didn’t look over.

“I love you Miroslav. I do. I can think of nothing worse than ending what we had together, but if it’s what you want then I’ll never bother you again like this.” Thomas bit his lip a little before continuing. “I just really, desperately want you to change your mind. I would do anything for you to change your mind.”

When Miro stayed quiet, despite the pleading in Thomas’ voice, he felt his heart drop what little bit of hope it had. Miro wasn’t saying anything. Nothing, at all. He still wouldn’t look at him. His hands rested on the side of his empty suitcase and Thomas could see that his eyes were closed. He had a look of resignation on his face. Thomas felt the little spark of hope that he’d carried with him all day dying in the ashes of their relationship.

Thomas nodded slowly and somehow got his mouth to work despite the lump that had reformed in his throat. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

He wasn’t sure what he was apologizing for. For pushing things into this? For holding on too tight? For begging when it was clear that Miro wasn’t interested? For not being enough? For being too much? For all of this and more? Thomas turned and started to leave.

There was a foolish part of his mind that hoped it would be like in the films. He would hit the call button for the elevator and Miro would come running out of his suite after him. Miro would pull him into a kiss and they would make up with some great sex, a long conversation and all would be right with the world again. Like earlier with the traffic, this wasn’t like the films.

He hit the button for the elevator and it came. He waited a moment to see if Miroslav was going to come out. When he didn’t, Thomas let out a huge sigh and stepped inside. He watched the doors close from inside the metal box and he hit the lobby button. He wasn’t coming. He wasn’t going to show. This is what life was going to be like now. No Miro to talk to. No Miro to hold, or be held by. No Miro to long to see during the call up. No Miro.

Thomas wasn’t going to give up on his former boyfriend. Maybe one day he would change his mind. Maybe one day this would hurt less. That little ember of hope he decided he would bury deep inside. He would keep it, but for now, he would let it rest.

Walking out of the hotel, Thomas squinted in the sunlight and took a deep breath so full that it hurt his lungs. He exhaled slowly and got into his car. Slipping on his sunglasses, he mutely put his car into gear and left the hotel. He contemplated going back to Bastian’s where Manu, Fips, and a few of the others were going to be having a barbecue later. Socialization didn’t seem too appealing right now. He didn’t particularly care to see Manuel cozying up to his boyfriend, Benny, or the overwhelming amount of public affection that Lukas was going to shower with Bastian before he returned to London.

Instead of heading back in the direction of his house, Thomas turned his car north and got on the highway.

A drive in the fast lane sounded good. The feel of the machine under his hands would be a good distraction for a while, just let the road soothe his mind. He would be okay; he just needed a little time first.

He muttered to himself just to fill the silence of his car. “Guess I’ll go to Dortmund for a while. Show Mats what it’s like to actually win at FIFA. Then I’ll show Marco how to play as well. Those two losers can learn from the master.” 

For the first time in a day and a half, four days after winning the world cup and then screwing up the relationship he had and half a day later after losing his boyfriend and the only man he really loved, Thomas Muller made himself smile.


End file.
